Friday, October 12, 2012

Making Do

About his grandfather during the food
rationing days of the Second World War.

The friend's grandmother had been to
the grocery store and purchased, among other things, a new tin of
pepper.

Which she set on the table.

Her husband picked it up and studied it
for a moment. He looked at her and said, “This pepper is half
peas!”

“Oh, for heaven's sake!” she said.
“I thought I looked at it!”

I should explain, here, that, during
the war, creative ways of extending food were discovered and
explored. They called it ersatz. I'm not sure where the name came from, but it was expressive. Many different readily available foodstuffs were dried and
powdered and added to other foods not so easily come by. Corn meal,
for example, was widely used.

The use of dried peas, though not as
usual, was not unheard of.

Another can of pepper was procured the
next day.

Again, the grandfather picked up the
little tin.

“Huh,” he said. “This one is half
peas, too.”

His wife snorted in disgust. “Well,
there's only one kind left,” she said. “I'll try that one
tomorrow.”

She did.

She proudly set the third little tin on
the table in front of her husband and proceeded to get his dinner.

He picked up the tin and peered at it
closely. “Yep,” he said. “Half peas.”

“What?! I looked at it! Where does it
say . . .” her voice trailed off.

Her husband was pointing at the
'Pepper' part of the label. “Here,” he said. “See? P-E-P-P-E-R.
Half of the letters are p's.”

Oh. P's. Not peas.

She didn't upend the tin over him or
anything drastic like that.

But I'm sure they had pepper to last
until the turn of the century.

This story reminded me of my Mom.

She was raised during the Depression
years and knew very well the days of rationing and going without.

She learned very early to 'make do”.

And to purchase things quickly, when
they became available.

Her parents bought a large, twenty-five
pound tin of peanut butter, for example. Oil on peanut butter rises.
The first two-thirds of the container were edible. The last third had
to be run through a meat grinder to make it spreadable.

But they ate it.

Several large cans of cherry jam
appeared at the local grocery.

Her Dad quickly snapped one up.

At first, cherry jam was a treat.

Served at every meal, it became a bit
tiresome.

Still, it disappeared.

In her own home, Mom tried to practise
what she had been taught throughout her life.

Waste not want not, she often told us.

Some of her attempts were successful.

Others . . . not so much.

When there was no milk cow on the
place, she tried to extend the life of the milk container in the
fridge by added powdered milk to it.

Fooling no one.

She tried purchasing the cheapest brand
of peanut butter.

Unfortunately, her children hadn't been
raised during the Depression and were finer-mouthed than their
parents.

The cheaper peanut butter languished on
the shelf.

Finally, in desperation, she bought the
favourite kind. Which disappeared in a flash.

Coining the phrase, “I'm going to
stop buying that peanut butter. You kids just eat it!”

She made her own roast beef sandwich
spread by running cold roast beef through the meat grinder, along
with some pickles. Then mixing in some mayonnaise.

That one was a hit. We kids loved
sandwiches spread with beef and pickle hash.

I'm sure that, through the years, Mom
saved our family a boatload of money with her careful ways.

Unfortunately, my children were even
finer-mouthed than we had been.

One day, one of my kids saw her adding
water to the ketchup.

I had seen her do that before. It made
the ketchup a bit runnier, but still tasted okay.

Wait till you read my (coming) entry on the milk cow. In the meantime, remember how she took a can of soup and put in about 4 cans of water to make enough for us? And remember the orange juice so pale that it would've failed a urine test?

I CAN'T WAIT!!! Oh, I remember the watered soup. And the slightly Tang-flavoured water. And the extra can of water in the OJ. She tried hard, our mother. I think that is the reason that I add less water to everything now. The wave correcting itself!

Lady, I think we can agree that children today have an innate sense of entitlement. My nana grew up in the Depression. She once told me a story about how her and her children survived one winter eating lima beans. Nana said, "If it hadn't had been for the beans, we would have starved to death." And I believed her. There was a time when all my kids and I ate was soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Would you believe it was the happiest time of our lives? The three cans of peas made me smile! You'd think that the third time would be the charm! hee hee! :)

Translate

My novel, Carving Angels

My Second Novel: Kris Kringle's Magic

About the Mom

Diane was born and raised on one of the last of the great old Southern Alberta ranches. A way of life that is fast disappearing now. Through her memories and stories, she keeps it alive. And even, at times, accurate . . .